


Renewed

by NotAMuggleMiss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Non-Graphic Violence, Secret Relationship, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26667703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAMuggleMiss/pseuds/NotAMuggleMiss
Summary: For Millicent Bulstrode, falling into relationships by accident is the easy part. What proves to be the most difficult is letting go and being okay by herself again.
Relationships: Lavender Brown/Millicent Bulstrode, Millicent Bulstrode/Ron Weasley
Comments: 18
Kudos: 30
Collections: Sing Me a Rare: UK Invasion!





	Renewed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sing Me a Rare: The UK Invasion. Much love to my beta/alpha, iwasbotwp, this story would not exist in its current form without her insight and support.
> 
> Song Prompt – Dark Road - Annie Lennox
> 
> Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made from this creation.

**Monday, April 21 1997**

Millicent Bulstrode was just minding her own business when she heard the crying. She wasn’t the kind of witch who could afford to stop and check on others, no matter how much she wanted to. She had her own problems. It was hard enough being a half-blood sorted into Slytherin with a reputation to uphold, but not being blessed with a girlish figure certainly didn’t help her fit into pureblood circles either. 

Now, that prick Marcus Flint had gone and broken their betrothal and she still didn’t know whether she should laugh or cry about it. She hadn’t exactly  _ wanted _ to be married to him, but her mum had been telling her for a decade that she would have to make do with what little options she was given. Being historically listed as Sacred Twenty-Eight couldn’t erase the cock-up of her being a half-blood. At least he had had the decency of telling her parents it was because he felt they were ill-suited. 

He hadn’t been so conciliatory when he’d laughed in her face and told her he wouldn’t dare humiliate himself being seen with the likes of her. She was the laughing stock of her whole House. He had added in a choice comment about preferring not to snog horses. It had stung, but she had a thick skin most days. 

As much as she told herself she shouldn’t stop, she couldn’t help but worry that hearing a crying witch meant someone was taking advantage of them. Millie, being of large stature, knew how to use her size to intimidate. In fact, she had had quite a lot of practice the previous year when her father had made her join Umbridge’s blasted Inquisitorial Squad. She sighed and followed the sound of the sobs.

In an alcove behind a tapestry of a ballroom scene, she found Lavender Brown sitting on a wooden bench sobbing into her knees. The girl was hardly a stranger, their families had run in similar circles and they had been friends as children. Though being sorted into separate houses had a way of creating distance between friends once they arrived at Hogwarts. They hadn’t spoken in ages.

“I...are you alright?” Millie asked, shuffling her feet and trying desperately not to sound as awkward as she felt. 

Lavender’s eyes widened as she looked up at her, before letting out a long breath.

“Oh, it’s just you,” she said, relief evident in her tone. She wrapped her arms around her knees a little tighter. “I thought he might have followed me.”

“Are you in trouble?” Millie asked, alarmed.

“No, nothing like that. I just broke up with Ron.” Lavender sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve.

“The Weasley?” She snorted. “He doesn’t seem worth the tears. But join the club, I guess. Marcus broke off our agreement, yesterday.” Millie settled onto the bench beside her, leaning back against the wall. 

Lavender gasped. “But you’ve been betrothed since you were like 8! What happened?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’ve not quite grown into his type,” she quipped, rolling her eyes. Lowering her voice in embarrassment, she added: “He might also have compared me to a horse.”

“What an absolute arse! He’s wrong, too. I happen to think you’re beautiful,” Lavender declared fiercely.

Millie blushed furiously. 

* * *

**Sunday, May 18 1997**

“Oh! Millie!” 

Millie was sitting on their transfigured sofa behind the tapestry of the ballroom with a breathless Lavender in her lap, lazily tracing tiny circles on the sensitive skin below the other girl’s ear with her tongue. The blonde squirmed in her lap, tangling her hands in Millie’s hair and moaning in a way that made her stomach fill with riotous butterflies.

After their chance meeting, their rekindled friendship had blossomed quickly and they had started to meet nearly daily in their hidden spot. Everything changed on the day Lavender had arrived with a gleam of mischief in her eye and sat directly in Millie’s lap before kissing her senseless. They had been snogging regularly since then, for at least a fortnight now. Nothing in her life had ever felt so right before, but Millie couldn’t help but be terrified of how hard she was falling for her.

A sharp tug on her hair made her scalp tingle pleasantly, and in return she nipped and suckled at the creamy expanse of her friend’s throat until moans filled the alcove. Slipping a hand up under Lavender’s jumper, she gently cupped one of her breasts and pulled at the lacy fabric covering it until she could feel soft skin. She experimentally ran her thumb back and forth over a rapidly hardening nipple, making her partner’s breath hitch. This was unknown territory, their hands had always stayed firmly over their clothing, until now.

Suddenly, she could feel the soft skin of Lavender’s palm slide up the inside of her thigh and she stilled. Delicate fingers boldly climbed until they rested lightly on her soaked knickers. 

Leaning back, she found blue eyes intently staring into hers.

“Is this okay? Can I touch you?” Lavender bit her lip, concern evident in her voice.

A wave of desire washed over her and Millie nodded. The blonde’s hungry grin was all she needed to know she was absolutely done for. 

* * *

**Saturday, May 31 1997**

Hidden away, alone in their compartment, with the blinds firmly pulled down and several locking charms on the door, Millie could almost forget that they were clinging to borrowed time. They were snuggled together over the length of the seat, arms firmly wrapped around each other and Lavender’s head was resting near her neck. Her lover sighed.

“What’s wrong, Lav?”

The small body shifted in her arms and the other girl gazed up at her coyly. “I’ll miss you. That’s all.” 

Soft lips found her neck and Millie shuddered.

“I’m sorry. I know it isn’t what we had planned. But everything is different now…” Millie trailed off, trying to find words to explain her feelings.

They had been planning to continue seeing each other through the summer. Their relationship had to remain a secret, of course, but they knew none of their parents would object to their friendship. If they were careful, nobody would suspect their bond was anything more than a rekindled acquaintance.

And then Dumbledore had been killed and the whole world had changed.

War was coming, but more terrifying than that was the knowledge that their families would surely be on opposite sides of the coming conflict. Tears began to form in Millie’s eyes and Lavender reached up to catch them before they could fall.

“It’ll be alright, love. We can write, if we’re careful. And September will come before we know it.” 

“I’m scared, Lav!” She shook herself, trying to clear the sense of foreboding that clouded her mind. She sat up and closed her eyes. Her girlfriend’s hands ran gently through her hair, calming her.

“Me too, love,” Lavender reassured her. “But I’ve got you.”

* * *

**Tuesday, September 2 1997**

It was only the second day of the term and Millie was already panicking about how they would make it through the year.

Her parents had made their instructions very clear before sending her back to Hogwarts. They would be remaining as neutral as possible, doing only what was necessary to survive. Her job was to become invisible at best and compliant if necessary. She could still remember the frown on Lavender’s face when she had explained this strategy to her on the journey to Hogwarts, imploring her to stay as safe as possible by adopting the same mission.

After a summer apart, their reunion on the train had been explosive. There had been letters, but circumstances demanded they stay friendly without slipping into intimacy as it wouldn’t do for anyone to discover the depth of their feelings for each other. They had sat across from each other, layering locking and silencing charms one over the other and waiting for the departure time impatiently. The train had barely left the station when Millie had shot a hasty privacy charm at the windows and Lavender had flown into her lap in a flurry of lips, teeth, and exploring hands.

Their arrival in the Great Hall and the shocking introduction of their new professors had left a bitter taste in Millie’s mouth. Casting a stealthy glance at her girlfriend had revealed a look of defiance on the blonde’s face that had shaken Millie to her core. She had concluded she would have to double her efforts to convince her to stand down.

They were sitting in the Muggle Studies classroom, now a compulsory subject, quietly listening to Alecto Carrow’s disgusting introduction of the subject when Neville Longbottom stood from his seat.

“Those are all lies,” he said calmly. “We’ve all met Muggleborns and most of us have met Muggles, too. They’re just as human as we are.”

Without warning, Professor Carrow cast a cutting curse in his direction, catching his cheek just below his eye. Several students gasped, but Longbottom barely flinched, even as blood ran down his face and dripped from his chin.

“Does anyone else feel my authority on the subject should be questioned?” she asked in a sickly sweet voice that brought to mind that awful Umbridge woman.

The room was silent, nobody moved. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lavender raise her hand and nearly choked on the breath she was holding.

“Miss Brown, is it? Please come to the front.” Professor Carrow’s twisted parody of a polite smile made Millie shiver. 

Lavender’s confident steps echoed on the stone floor as she made her way to the front of the room, standing to face her classmates when directed to do so. The Death Eater parading as a teacher pointed her wand at the Gryffindor before addressing the class.

“Watch carefully, children. I wouldn’t want anyone to miss this very simple lesson on what happens to witches and wizards who do not respect the authority of those in charge,” she said, letting the threat linger a moment before she whispered “Crucio.”

Lavender’s scream rang throughout the room as she fell to her knees. The spell was lifted after only a second or two, but she didn’t get up. Millie dug her fingers into her thighs under the desk and bit her tongue, fighting every instinct telling her to run to her beloved and offer comfort or protection. It wouldn’t help either of them if they were both injured. The reality of what they were facing hit her like a bludger to the chest. 

“I trust I’ve made myself clear,” the professor intoned, before resuming her lesson, ignoring the panting girl who still kneeled on the ground beside her.

* * *

**Monday, March 17 1998**

Waiting nervously behind their silenced tapestry, disillusioned and with her pockets full of healing tinctures, Millie could feel the encroaching panic as more and more time passed without the arrival of her lover.

Since September, she had done everything she could to keep her head down and avoid declaring her loyalties for either side. Neutrality was already a dangerous enough compromise between the safety afforded those who followed the Carrows demands willingly and the morals she just couldn’t fully ignore. She had been begging Lavender to attempt the same, but it was like her headstrong girlfriend didn’t have a single ounce of self-preservation in her body.

Lavender constantly felt the need to stand up for what was right. And Millie couldn’t accept the petite witch suffering, so she had learned healing spells and brewed what she could to keep her in one piece. Though she still couldn’t take the step of jumping into conflicts herself or purposely putting herself in harm’s way. Being raised to do what needed to be done for the sake of upholding traditions and her family’s expectations, it felt easier to compromise her morals for the sake of her very survival. She could tell this difference of opinion was starting to wear on Lavender’s patience.

Their meetings had become riskier and more desperate. Every time they met, the woman before her had looked a little more physically broken, and yet seemed increasingly confident and determined. 

Millie was busy convincing herself that a year which came from the depths of Hades couldn’t possibly get any worse, when the tapestry had swept aside to admit a bloody and bruised figure hunched in on itself. Lavender barely held herself up long enough to collapse onto their old bench. An alarming bloody patch bloomed through the front of her white shirt. Millie hurried to unbutton the shirt and quickly healed the deep cut she found in her abdomen. Looking up, she found Lavender’s face was swollen in multiple places, and one of her eyes surrounded in purple and yellow bruises. She remembered to cancel her disillusionment spell before reaching out to sweep disarrayed hair gently off the blonde’s face, healing several fresh cuts as she went. As the magic swept over her, Lavender opened her eyes.

“Thank you, love,” she whispered, wincing.

“Lav, what happened?”

“I had detention, they wanted me to punish some second years...I refused,” she replied with certainty in her voice.

“You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Let them kill me then!” Lavender suddenly had fire in her eyes. “I know you’ve said we can’t really hurt them without meaning it, but they’re  _ children _ , Millie! I could never live with myself.”

“So are we!” she shouted. Millie paused, taking several deep breaths. “I don’t like seeing you hurt. I don’t know how I would live without you,” she admitted quietly.

Lavender’s silence as she slowly sat up on the bench was heavy. Millie’s breath caught at the sadness apparent in her eyes.

“Neville wants me to disappear, like a few others already have. It’s too dangerous for me now and he could use my help with all the little ones. It’s time for me to hide.” 

Tears streamed down Millie’s face as she carefully embraced her lover, unable to find the words to express the mixture of overwhelming sadness and potent relief swirling through her.

“You should be happy, love. Isn’t this what you’ve wanted all along? You’ve been begging me to stay safe,” Lavender said tersely.

“Not like this,” the brunette admitted. “And we both know you aren’t doing this for me.”

“You’re right. I’m doing it because I’m needed elsewhere. Some things are just more important than what I want, than my own survival. I still don’t understand how you can stand to be a part of their brutality—you’re a good person!”

“I’m not a part of it, Lavender! I’m just staying out of it!”

“Silence is complicity, Millie. No matter how you twist it so you can sleep at night.” Lavender took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest as her lips closed into a thin line on her still-swollen face.

“We’re not all brave, like you,” Millie spoke softly, trying to shrink her large frame in her shame. “But I love you.”

Lavender sighed and stepped into her space. “I love you, too. I...have to go.”

Cracked lips pressed into Millie’s smooth ones and a callused hand ran gently through her hair. Then she stepped away and, casting a charm over her head, disappeared into thin air. The tapestry barely swayed and Millie wondered if she would see her again.

She stared at the plain canvas backing for a long time before eventually sneaking back to the Slytherin dormitory.

* * *

**Saturday, May 9 1998**

It was past 10 o’clock in the morning when Millie wandered into her family’s dining room, her hair still rumpled from sleep, and headed to the sideboard to help herself to a cup of tea. The others had long since eaten their morning meal and moved on with their day. She knew her mother disapproved of her late starts since she'd come home, but she didn't know if she had the energy to care whether anyone approved of her anymore. 

Eight days had passed since she had last seen or heard from Lavender. In the chaos of her forced evacuation from the castle before the battle, they had made eye contact, but it hadn’t been possible for Millie to get to her. Hope had blossomed in her chest when her love had smiled at her, because the end was near and they were both still safe. She had eagerly sent a note by owl as soon as the news that the battle was over had been released. But it had come back unopened, as had her two subsequent attempts. 

The sadness she felt at being so obviously rejected swiftly replaced everything else. She had slept more in the past week than she ever had in her life, simply because the effort required to do anything else seemed like an insurmountable request. 

She sat at the table with her tea and a plain slice of toast and picked up her father’s abandoned copy of the Daily Prophet. The headline across the front page read ‘Honour the Fallen’ and was followed by a short paragraph and a list of the names of those who had perished at Hogwarts. A flash of guilt pushed her to admit she should stop wallowing in her heartbreak long enough to show a little respect to those mourning loved ones and she vowed to read every name as penance.

As she moved slowly down the page, her attention caught on a familiar assortment of letters and the taste of bile instantly rose into her mouth. She took a deep breath, willing herself to believe her eyes had deceived her, and she forced herself to look back down at the newspaper.

_ Brown, Lavender _

A sob caught in her throat and she dropped her tea. Hot liquid spread over the paper and the ceramic cup shattered, along with the remains of her heart.

* * *

**Tuesday, May 19 1998**

People said that funerals were for the living, but it was painfully obvious that Lavender’s funeral would do nothing but cause her pain she couldn’t fully acknowledge or explain to anyone else. The stark realisation that secret lovers did not get to truthfully mourn in public hit her hard as she valiantly fought back the worst of her tears while listening to Lavender’s mother weep. 

She was alone. She had felt alone many times in her life before this moment, but none had left her with this soul-crushing emptiness and the desperation to connect with anyone who might understand even a fragment of her loss. 

As people began to leave, she stood rooted to the spot, staring at the casket. It was closed, on account of the werewolf attack that had killed her left horribly disfiguring wounds that magic couldn't hide. Millie couldn’t help but wonder if anything could truly make Lavender ugly when her beauty had always come from her spirit. Panic set in as she remembered that that beautiful spirit was now extinguished forever.

The urge to flee assaulted her without warning and she turned and made blindly for the exit before colliding into something solid. Arms reached out and caught her before she could crash to the floor and she looked up into the concerned face of a young man with shocking red hair and kind eyes.

“I’m...sorry,” she stammered, wiping furiously at the tears now streaming down her cheeks.

“S’alright. You okay?” He smiled and then sobered quickly, glancing around at their surroundings. “I mean, you’re obviously not. Sorry. Were you very close to Lavender?” He asked, running a hand through his hair as he shuffled from one foot to the other.

Nobody had known to ask her if she was alright before then, and the feeling of having her grief recognized was intoxicating. 

“We were...friends,” she murmured, choking on the word. “Not many people knew.”

She let the remark with so much hidden meaning hang in the air. The feelings welling up inside her threatened to overtake her sensibility again. The man reached out to awkwardly pat her on the arm.

“Look, I’m not trying to impose or anything, but you look like you could use a friend. Can I get you a cup of tea, or something? You can talk about her, if it helps… I’m Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley.” He ducked his head, as if uncertain, and tentatively offered her his elbow.

Millie looked up into a pair of not-quite-right blue eyes. The stone that settled in her belly quelled her panic. She nodded.

“I’m Millie.”

* * *

**Thursday, December 31 1998**

It was the last day of December and Millie couldn’t quite grasp how she had come to be sitting on a sofa at the Burrow, snuggly tucked under Ron’s arm and waiting to ring in the New Year. They had come together slowly and naturally over the previous six months, despite her constant reservations. The truth was, he was safe and mostly comfortable. Still, their relationship usually left her feeling like she was carelessly trying to shove the wrong piece into the puzzle of her life.

The more time she had spent with the Weasleys, still so warm and connected despite their own grief, the more she realised they seemed to be recovering from their losses by coming together, while she was left behind. It wasn’t that they meant to leave her out, but it was impossible to benefit from the healing properties of shared memories when she couldn’t share the reality of her past or reveal the true depth of her loss. 

She told herself often that she should leave, she knew she wasn’t exactly being fair to Ron, but the prospect of facing the world by herself terrified her. He seemed to want her there, in any case, and took comfort from her in a way he wasn’t aware he could never reciprocate.

The occupants of the room became animated when they began to count down the seconds before midnight. Millie found herself captured by Ron’s intense gaze, wishing she could properly return the feelings she saw etched upon his face. As the clock struck twelve, soft lips met hers. Her thoughts turned to all the things she would gladly give up for one last kiss from the chapped lips of the broken woman who still held her heart, instead.

“Happy New Year, Millie,” Ron said softly, smiling at her with shining eyes. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Yeah, me too.” The lie burned on her tongue.

* * *

**Sunday, May 2 1999**

It was 2 o’clock in the morning when Millie accepted that she wouldn’t be sleeping any more for the night. She had been plagued with vivid dreams of Lavender for months now, but the nightmares she had experienced tonight left her reeling with images of a broken body with empty eyes that she didn’t know how to get rid of. 

Constant sadness was her daily companion as she moved through the motions of living, but in the darkness her mind overflowed with thoughts she only wanted to share with one person. And that person was gone. Overcome with sudden anger, she pulled on the robes she’d discarded only hours earlier and slipped her feet into a pair of trainers before apparating with a crack.

She landed on the stone path she had walked too many times in the past year to count, surrounded by the graves of witches and wizards lost. She stormed ahead with purpose. She knew exactly where she was going, though she had never managed to complete the journey. Tonight was different. Her feet carried her until she stopped before a nearly pristine stone marker bearing the name of her former lover, then they refused to hold her any longer and she sank to her knees.

She shivered in the breeze as the cold and near-oppressive silence seemed to penetrate to her core.

_ Silence is complicity. _

The words came to her unbidden and Millie shrieked with rage, disturbing the quiet. 

“Why? Why did you have to do the right thing, one last time... You were safe!”

The sound of the wind in the trees struck her like a  _ Diffindo _ to her soul. It was empty noise that meant nothing and reminded her that she would never get an answer. She was still alone.

“How could you?” she howled. Her body crumpled to the grass, willing the ground to swallow her whole. She pounded the earth beneath her until her energy ran dry. “How could you leave me here alone…”

She searched within her for the strength she knew had allowed her to survive the past year and face the same madness every day. Finding it nearly depleted, she let go. As her exhaustion pressed down, finally breaking her, she fell into a dreamless sleep. 

She woke as the sun was rising. Momentary confusion gave way to cruel recognition and she quickly Apparated home.

* * *

**Saturday, June 5 1999**

“Okay, well I’ll see you tomorrow then, yeah?” 

Ron stood up from his seat and walked over to her. He leaned in to kiss her and she had to fight not to flinch at the familiar casual gesture. He didn’t notice. Or maybe he did and he pretended not to, she couldn’t be sure anymore. 

And then he was gone. Millie stared at the chair he had been sitting in for most of the afternoon. Since the night she had spent on Lavender's grave, it had become so obvious to her that she and Ron were no longer right for each other. Perhaps they never had been a good fit at all. The thought should have been upsetting, but somehow it barely pierced the surface of her consciousness. Nothing seemed to get through to her anymore, except for those times when  _ everything  _ did. 

It was easier this way, living in this strange, all-encompassing fog. Alone. Nobody really came down that dark road to find her. Not even Ron. Though he was now the one who kissed her, touched her and said he loved her, he couldn’t know what she didn’t tell him. They did have intimacy of a sort, but she was well aware that it was her fault it stayed safely on the surface. The longing to come clean about the past tore at her.

She wondered how she had come to be in this place and whether there was any point trying to get out of it. 

* * *

**Sunday, June 6 1999**

When Millie woke the next morning, the sun was already high in the sky and she rapidly cast a Tempus charm to make sure she hadn’t inadvertently missed brunch. She was still on time, but had not a moment to spare as she rushed to dress and make herself presentable, at minimum.

She Apparated to the field behind the Burrow and fought the urge to run in favour of slowly making her way towards the garden gate. She looked up to see Ron making his way in her direction and stopped to wait for him. He greeted her by pulling her close and fondly pecking her on the lips as she endeavoured not to seem too stiff.

“Hey Millie!” He punctuated his greeting with a kiss to the tip of her nose. “You look beautiful today.”

Millie was startled to recognize a look of genuine happiness on his face and realised that for once, she was seeing the situation clearly for what it was. 

Ron loved her. This man, who had also suffered, did not deserve to be strung along because she was afraid to hurt him. He deserved a real chance at happiness, and she knew she wasn’t it. 

She stepped back abruptly, making him jump, and twisted her hands nervously together as she took in the confusion blooming on his face.

“I’m so sorry, Ron. I... can't do this anymore,” she stuttered as she struggled to find the kindest words to let him down.

“Millie?”

“You haven’t done anything wrong! It’s just that, I was in love with Lavender. Er, she and I were secretly in love...with each other. And I’m not ready for this.”

Ron was staring at her with a dumbfounded expression, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. She waited as a minute passed by in silence and his eyes gradually lost their shine and grew sad.

“I really am sorry,” she whispered. “I think, I just need to be by myself.”

When Ron nodded, she turned and fled to the Apparition point. She was in such a hurry to get away that she didn’t properly focus on where she wanted to go and found herself a bit shocked to land in a very familiar Wizarding Cemetery.

It felt right, so she walked slowly up the road and found herself once again in front of Lavender’s grave. She sat down carefully on the ground and, pulling her knees up, she rested her arms casually across them.

“I’ve really managed to muck everything up,” she sighed. “But I think I get it now, I probably always did, why you had to fight. And I think I can heal. I know I can try.”

The sound of birds twittering nearby brought a tiny smile to her lips and she sat a moment more to take in the sounds of nature all around her, bolstering her courage.

“I may not be brave like you were, but I don’t want to be so broken anymore, Lav. I want to learn to live again. Maybe that’s bravery, too,” she admitted. 

Millie reached down and plucked several large blades of grass, gathering them between her fingers before rising to her feet again. Painstakingly, she transfigured them into a small bundle of carnations and placed them gently at the base of the headstone.


End file.
